Vampire wears Prada
by Arnoly
Summary: Discovery of Na-Foir was already a surprise for the Drakes so imagine what chaos could be unleashed if there happened to be one more, unique and very separate vampire race with very own origins, culture and history that lived in secret for centuries. And what could happen if one of their royalities - unpredictable vampire princess in Prada's high heels seduced one of the Drakes?


**Sooo, yeah it's my first story ever and also I'd like to mention that English is not my native language and I'm still learning so there might be some grammar mistakes, mostly in tenses. It would be nice if you could point them out to me, so I could correct. Thanks :3 **

**I don't own any of the _Drake Chronicles_ characters. **

**OC characters belong to me.**

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 _Priscilla_

I froze and shivers run down my spine when I felt sweet taste of cold, milky chocolate on my tongue mixed with familiar, exciting taste of blood and even though not entirely fresh which, as I care to mention, is not my favorite kind of blood, sent warm feeling down into my stomach.

"Just this once I am willing to forgive you for serving me blood from refrigerator." I said in pleased, dulcet voice while watching shy smile form on Soren's face.

I've never been able to drink blood from a bag or bottle other than wine bottle. You call it prance and I call it manners or maybe the way I've been taught as a child and adolescent girl. My family – de Volvyres have always been very traditional in cases of education, children upbringing and drinking blood. Some other vampire families thought of us as of excessively showy with those rules, especially when my grandma slammed cup of blood to the ground on vampire council, refusing to drink from a vessel. Things changed a little bit, we've stopped insisting on drinking only from vein but judging look from older kin could still be a pain in the ass on family meetings.

"You don't seem to be bothered that much by drinking from a glass so I thought that it might not be a problem." His voice seemed too quiet for me. I narrowed my eyebrows, sending him dissatisfied look and his head hung down as if I was scolding him.

"Soren, please stop acting like I'm your mother or something even worse." I crossed my legs and tossed red high heels on the carpet, feeling that my feet are getting sore. "I don't mind drinking from a glass but I still hold back from drinking bagged blood. And I guess the one you added to my drink was bagged, wasn't it?"

Soren nodded slightly, sitting next to me on the couch but still in appropriate distance. "Yes, it was. Sorry."

I sighted. Seems like my days of youth had gone pretty long ago, yet I still couldn't get used to being treated like and old vampire. And I certainly wasn't acting like one, even though Soren's face looked red and scared every time he'd look my way. I have to admit, it was kind of cute but also very tiring. And it made me feel old – very, very old. His looks and timid voice reminded me that I actually was three hundred and ninety two years old. Eight years left for my four hundredth birthday and only a century left until I was going to be half of a millennium. Tell me about midlife crisis.

Of course I know there are vampires older than me and I might be exaggerating but that didn't change the fact that being treated like matron by younger cousins made me feel annoyed. Those were, I guess, downsides of being born in such proud family. There was no way I could be taken as flapper girl even though I'd been changed as one, only seventeen. No one has ever mistaken me for younger girl, always referring to me with deserved respect "Miss Priscilla". And yeah, can you even imagine? Almost four hundred years behind me and still a miss. It became even more irritating once my best friend Scarlett got married in 1878.

"Cousin…" whispered Soren in soft voice, pulling his legs on the couch and crossing them. "Can you finally tell me why you're here?"

I reached to him and grasped single strand of his blond hair to roll it between my fingers with nails painted black. Soren was young in the way I once used to be – younger than everyone, not even a vampire yet. I envied him a little bit because although he was raised in vampire family and destined to be turned, he was still fresh and mortal, fragile in very special way. In the way I loved to have been. Few days ago he had his nineteenth birthday so there was actually plenty of time left until he had to be changed but his mother asked me to come with a visit and talk to him as certain problem had occurred. Soren didn't want to be changed and that was something what couldn't be accepted in our family. But I understood him.

"Your mother is worried about your reluctance to being turned…" I explained simply, turning my glass of chocolate liqueur mixed with blood. Reddish liquid smeared on thin glass. "She wanted me to convince you."

"I thought I have time."

"You do but she's worried."

"Just go back to Paris. I'll figure it out with her. I'm only nineteen and I don't even have a girlfriend."

There was a tradition among old families like us, Tepeses and Lancasters that one was being turned once they had at least one child. Of course earlier transformation was allowed if one didn't want to have kids but there was no talking about rejecting the transformation. But I wasn't going to convince Soren that transformation was something he needed. Not in such a young age. Personally I thought that being mortal in your adolescent years was very beautiful feeling of which I've been stripped of. Sad face.

"It's okay." I smiled lightly, tugging his hair. "I won't fight with you over your transformation"

Soren's lips curved in delicate smile. He was handsome but in very boyish way. "Then why did you come here all the way from Paris to this wasteland?"

"I don't know… I needed a break from all those pompous relatives and grandma. They make me feel even older…" I pouted.

"But you're in the straight line from Lady de Volvyre. I think it's kind of obvious that you belong to this pompous world." I tampered my lips as he said this and looked at him with disappointment.

"And I thought you were getting comfortable with me…"

"I think you should go back to France."

I put empty glass on coffee table next to us and stared into the fireplace for a while. He was acting weird and so was his mother, only asking me to talk to him and then quickly go back to the Lady de Volvyre's court. Also my parents and grandma did not want me to come here. I wondered what could be so interesting here in the United States that they all wanted to keep me out of it. Cause it was clearly the case.

"I'm going to stay for a while. You, Americans are straight like taken out of TV shows."

"Cousin…"

No way I was getting kicked out of here. "Soren, let's put it like this. I won't leave unless you tell me why you all so desperately want me out of here."

He sighted and looked at me without this faint smile he used to wear on his lips.

"It's them." My brows rose as he continued. "Last past months… were crazy. Until now they kept silent, hunting those blue ones, treating with their hunters, not leaning out too much… But few months ago they have dethroned their queen and shit went in the air. You know I'm not the best with these vampire things but really it's chaos now, still. There's never been so many of those blue vampires and victims in towns. And even videos in the Internet. Everyone thinks we should stay away, especially those like you, who are easy to be distinguished from them so they won't get to know about us… And you are… unpredictable."

 _Them._ I clearly knew what that meant. I don't know when council of families decided that our kind is not going to mix with their kind and to do so they should never get to know about our existence. It happened long before I was even born – the great gathering of heads of five royal families, two still living out of four original vampire brothers and our creator, father. For some it seemed impossible to coexist with totally different vampire race and never cross with them. Like two amazing cultures growing one on another. Like Rome placed on top of Paris or like Africa placed on America. But somehow it has been working for so many centuries without them getting to know us. They had they own royalties, own tribes and even own hunters called Helios-Ra and we had our royal families and our own hunters. At this point it was too dangerous to mix those two cultures. We were too different and might be too deadly for each other.

But that didn't change the fact that I was furious. I jumped up from the couch almost tripping over my heels from Prada still lying on the floor. How could it be that Soren, a relative so distant from the original line and from Lady de Volvyre, far more distant than me knew about all and I did not? Soren looked scared but I didn't care that much. I started walking barefoot on his soft carpet, my hair – a mass of black springs was jumping with every my angry step.

Soren licked his lower lip and stood up to prepare another glass of chocolate blood drink for me. "Cousin, relax…"

"I can't believe no one told me it was getting critical over here. I mean, I belong to the goddamn royal family, don't I?"

"But what could you possibly do with this knowledge?" Aside of fuck up the situation even more. He did not say that and I didn't read his mind but I sensed it in his voice.

"I don't know. It would just be nice to be informed in serious, political cases."

"Cousin, since when you're interested in politics?"

He was right. I wasn't. And usually I preferred to stay out of boring conversations about peace and war, hunter problems and mortals getting to know about us. I preferred parties, shopping and handsome mortal and vampire guys. But I wasn't stupid and I knew my grandma underestimated me once again. And I hated being underestimated. Being turned into a vampire at age seventeen didn't brainwash me and even if I still enjoyed kind of childish pleasures I had my own pride and intellect.

"Where are you going?" Soren asked me in scared voice when I put my heels on and smoothed bottom part of my short, black dress. "You know they can't get to know about us, why are you leaving?"

"Oh my god, Soren" I snapped. "I am not going to ruin eight hundred year old secret. I'm just angry and I'm going to get something to eat."

And I wasn't talking about going to fancy restaurant for oysters and white wine. Soren knew about it and that's why he looked so scared after I slammed the door of his apartment.


End file.
